


Shaken Not Stirred

by CoffeeAndConjunctions



Series: A Relationship As Told By Meals [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Ask Natasha., F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, Yes. Vodka does count as a meal.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 04:00:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6938770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeAndConjunctions/pseuds/CoffeeAndConjunctions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glancing down at her phone while she waits for the elevator, noting she was already fifteen minutes late and that the driver had an ETA of five, she doesn't look up from the screen right away when the doors open. A throat clearing has her glancing up at the occupied elevator.</p><p>“Going down?”</p><p>The Captain and the Soldier are in full tac gear inside, a little dirty (Steve's blonde hair in disarray) but with no obvious signs of injury. Now, she'd seen pictures of the Winter Soldier in full regalia but she's finding it hard to reconcile the man whose quiet presence she found so comforting to the one before her now. Strapped into leather, smelling of gun powder and smoke, he is another being all except for his eyes (slow blinking and the brightest blue) those eyes she recognized.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shaken Not Stirred

iv. Shaken Not Stirred

The Minions are having a party, something big and sciency had been accomplished but all Darcy could really tell you about it was that it had been a nightmare to organize and keep the funding properly documented (even with J.A.R.V.I.S and she'd been ready to strangle Randy Saltzman, Project Leader which was how he'd introduced himself to every Tom, Dick and Stan that walked into the Lab) but it was over so they decided that booze and dance was the way to go. She's surprised to get an invite, she wasn't particularly close to the Minions, sure she brought coffee and donuts and let them talk ideas at her when they needed to but she wasn't really part of them.

Same as she wasn't really part of the Avenger's either, not really.

_Darcy Lewis, professional hanger-on._

Yet Lauren seems genuine in her invite and it had been ages since she'd left the Tower for anything that could be solely delegated to the fun column (God, even her fun was being prioritized. Pepper would be proud) or the 'probably a bad idea' column so she agrees. Friday comes and already dressed for a night in New York in impractical looking heels (which are actually super comfy) and a black sequin dress that is modest looking enough until she starts moving in it (then it calls attention to the sway of her hips and the hint of newly forming muscles of her thighs, courtesy of Maria and Nat). Pairing it with a blazer she's ready to go when J.A.R.V.I.S chimes in with a bit of bad news. It seems that Pepper had not signed the paper copies of the new project funding and it needed to be submitted for Board Approval come Monday.

So she hops on the elevator and makes a pit stop to her office to grab the redundancy copy she keeps and stands impatiently in the elevator on the ride up. Fluffing her curls out and studying her reflection on the gleaming doors seemingly satisfied with her handy work. Doors part and J.A.R.V.I.S prompts her that Pepper is in the main lounge with the Team (great, just great). Squaring her shoulders she struts into the room, these heels don't really permit much other then strutting, and is greeted by a wolf whistle coming from Clint who sends her a wink.

Ignoring Clint, because she did not have the time to actually deal with him (she was gonna be late meeting the Minions as it was, she'd sent a text to Lauren saying she'd be a little late) she just flips him off on her way to Pepper.

“Boss Lady, I need your autograph on these documents.”

“Darcy--” Pepper has this air about her, like you can't help but want to impress her “Oh God, is this the Helsmer Project funding? I'm sorry I didn't get to it sooner.”

“No biggie, keeping track of the boring stuff is whatcha pay me for.”

With a flourish she signs without reading, she doesn't hand back the proposal she uses it to sweep her from head to toe before tucking it in beside her, no doubt planning to file it away herself (Best Boss Ever), “Hot date, tonight?”

“Going native with the Minions.”

“That dress doesn't look like it's hiding a taser.” Natasha pours herself into the set next to Pepper, fingers playing with a strand of her copper hair (if Darcy where a gambler she would bet that the good Doc had a good view of the show the Russian was putting on) eyes narrowed in that evaluating stare of hers that tends to unnerve people.

“That's because it doesn't.”

“Mhmmm, text me when you get there and before you leave.”

“Yes, Mother.”

It happened so fast she wouldn't have caught it if she hadn't been spending so much time with Natasha, her eyes lowered for a split second as if she couldn't hold Darcy's gaze, before she's the unruffled Black Widow again.

“Need Happy to drive you?” Pepper offers, tucking her legs under herself on the couch, a glass of white wine back in her hand.

“Got an uber coming already.”

“Enjoy yourself just remember you are still their Superior in the morning.”

“So no Tequila.”

“I would advise against it.”

Rolling her eyes she leaves both women on the couch and waives good bye to Banner (she'd been right, she'd been so right) Wilson and Clint. Jane and Thor are probably testing the durability of their bed right now. Rogers and Barnes are notably absent, which isn't uncommon, they could be out on a mission since Hill was M.I.A too.

Glancing down at her phone while she waits for the elevator, noting she was already fifteen minutes late and that the driver had an ETA of five, she doesn't look up from the screen right away when the doors open. A throat clearing has her glancing up at the occupied elevator.

“Going down?”

The Captain and the Soldier are in full tac gear inside, a little dirty (Steve's blonde hair in disarray) but with no obvious signs of injury. Now, she'd seen pictures of the Winter Soldier in full regalia but she's finding it hard to reconcile the man whose quiet presence she found so comforting to the one before her now. Strapped into leather, smelling of gun powder and smoke, he is another being all except for his eyes (slow blinking and the brightest blue) those eyes she recognized.

“Uhmm yeah,”

They shift to make room for her, the cart is big enough that they don't have to touch but Darcy almost wants to reach out and see if this towering figure is a mirage. There's a little bit of small talk between her and Steve, he asks about her plans and compliments (looks at Barnes expectantly but he is making a point not to look at her—it's okay, she's trying not to look at him either, only with less success).

When they reach Cap's floor Barnes lingers in the threshold of the elevator and Steve leaves with little more then a questioning look. She thinks he might say something (part of her hopes it's a compliment like Steve's) but he just steps back and ducks his head in parting when the doors close.

What the actual fuck was that?

* * *

 Knocking back a shot Vodka with an ease that would make Natasha proud (it's not Tequila she tells the disapproving face of Pepper in her mind) Lauren and Tristan let out a whoop beside her as they smack down their own glasses. She's feeling more relaxed then she has in months, as much as she loves the Team she constant feels as if she's trying to prove her worth or justifying her presence but here with the Minions she's just Darcy. They'd chosen a fairly upscale night club and they'd all made small talk as the line moved slowly at the entrance, once they were finally in a table was stalked and claimed and the liquor had flown freely.

Free of the blazer its not long before someone comes over and asks her to dance, she accepts because his hair is blonde and his eyes a warm brown (and she can't shake the lingering look the last pair of blue eyes she'd seen had given her) her body sways to the music with the ease of practice and the aid of alcohol. Two songs later she is back at the table and Ethan (the blonde cutie now has a name) had joined them for another drink. Another few dances and she's following Ethan to a dark corner, it's not very classy but a girl has needs and a good little bit of necking might be exactly what she needs.

He pushes open the door to the back without removing his lips from hers, she follows without teetering on in her heels (because she's a motherfucking boss) and has her pressed against the wall in no time. A sharp pain at her neck has her pushing him away.

“Dude easy on the tee--”

Words are left hanging, unfinished in the cool night air because he is holding a needle in his hand and a stoic expression has replace the easy smile he'd worn all night. The world falls of kilter, slumping against the wall is the only way she can keep herself up.

“Sleep tight.”

Slurring out a 'fuck you' is the last thing she consciously does.

* * *

 “Ms. Romanov.”

Natasha doesn't jar awake or slowly rises from slumber, she simply is asleep one moment and awake the next (the Red Room was not kind to those whose vigilance was not constant)

“Ms. Lewis has yet to return to the Tower, I sent the messages as you requested but have not received a reply. Upon further investigation I find I am unable to access the GPS on her phone anymore. Last know check in was two hours ago near the Canadian border.”

Springing from bed she tells J.A.R.V.I.S to wake up Barton and Hill, have them meet her at the helipad. Making quick work of getting dressed, they couldn't be traveling by land if they were already in Canada.

Who they were was the question.

Hill and Barton are all ready, Quinjet is prepping to go when she arrives.

“Nat what the hell is going on?”

“Lewis is being flown over the Canadian border, J.A.R.V.I.S can't track her anymore. Someone dumped the phone.” she replies to Hill's question, the other woman's jaw sets as her teeth clench.

“H.Y.D.R.A?”

“Would make sense--” Clint practically growls from the pilot seat, “She has access to the Tower, knows schedules and protocols. Damn it.”

J.A.R.V.I.S voice fills the space of the jet when he informs them of an incoming call. Steve's face pops on the screen, he looks like he's just woken up—his rumpled bed sheets confirm what his groggy look is suggesting. “Someone care to fill me in on what is going on? J.A.R.V.I.S activated priority one mission status.”

“Lewis has been taken. We suspect H.Y.D.R.A.”

“I'm on my way, five minutes.”

Captain America arrives in three with Falcon and the Winter Soldier flanking him. Once the platform rises Clint takes off to the last known ping of Darcy's GPS.

“Stark is working on re-establishing a connection, trying to see if the device recorded any frequencies he can latch on to.” Steve remains standing near the cockpit, Sam and Maria are looking over hologram maps of the location trying to figure out a reason why they are headed north. Natasha is seated next to Barnes who is running weapons checks on his gear with an intensity that makes her nervous.

“And Thor?”

Shaking his head Steve sighs, “We can't afford anything but stealth. If it comes to it he can be with is a short time.”

“He won't like it.”

“We'll deal with it when the time comes, for now we need to stay focused.”

* * *

 A ringing in her ear refuses to subside, blinking away the haze of forced slumber Darcy notes that she's been left unbound, the cell is empty—not even a cot, just concrete walls. Shaky at first she rises to her feet (they are bare, no more strappy heels) her blazer was left in the club she assumes and the chill of the room seeps deep into her bones. She doesn't have to wait long before someone comes to collect her, she's terrified but tries to keep her head high and expression blank (she's not succeeding, her lips are quivering she can feel them)

Florescent light bounces off the too white walls of the room, it's occupied by Ethan (or whatever the fuck his name might be) more uniformed soldiers and an older gentleman his salt and pepper hair and bespoke suit made for a dashing appearance.

“Darcy Lewis, twenty six. Project Manager of Applied Science at Stark Industries. Present at first contact with Avenger Thor. Quite the resume you've been building for yourself Ms. Lewis, surely this is merely the surface. I'd wager there is so much you can share with us.”

Chin stubbornly jutting out she crosses her arms and doesn't respond. Her stomach is queasy and she's not sure if it's from the drugs they pumped into her or from the Vodka (considering all the liquor she's had it's impressive she's so put together, scaring yourself sober is apparently a thing) but her voice is strong despite being a little hoarse.

“I ain't in a sharing mood. It's what happens when you kidnap people.”

Salt and Pepper smiles at her, it's almost grandfatherly but it doesn't reach his eyes. With a nod of his head the goon beside her turns with impressive speed, his fist colliding with her abdomen in a flash of pain—bile rises in her throat and she had to choke it back when he falls to her knees.

“Now, Ms. Lewis—this can go in a much more civilized way if you would only co-operate.”

“Screw you.”

“Very well, I always prefer the hard way.”

* * *

 Fourteen hours pass and they are no closer to finding Darcy, they've hit three abandoned factories in Canada and no sign of anything. Steve gives in and makes the call to Thor who reacts about as well as expected—the call is cut short when he calls for Heimdall to open the Bifrost and is gone. It's not a long wait before the thud of boots hitting the roof of the jet is heard, Clint lowers the platform and Thor enters in full Asgardian armor.

He stands nose to nose with Steve, “You will _never_ purposefully deceive me again thusly, Captain. You are a loyal friend and that loyalty grants you one pardon, one.” Steve nods stiffly and the others relax when its clear a fight wont break out. Natasha notes Barnes had still has a finger to the trigger of his gun but doesn't call attention to it.

“Heimdal has located Lady Darcy, I will guide you—follow closely.”

* * *

 Darcy is tied up now, they hadn't expected her to know how to fight—she manages to catch two of her goons unaware before they bring her down again but she's drawn blood now and they are more cautious. Her jaw hurts and the front of her dress is caked with bile from when the last stomach shot had cause her to vomit. One eye is swelling closed but the worst of her injuries is her left arm, they'd broken it with sickening snap and she'd screamed and screamed when they would step on it.

She'd like to say she didn't give them anything, that she held her own against the torture. But she hadn't, once they'd broken her arm a steady stream of words had come out of her mouth. Answering questions mundane at first, security codes—guard rotations—stem off the pain but once they started asking about the _Soldier_ (When does he leave the Tower? When is he likely to be alone?) she can't answer, just the thought of helping them get their hands on Bucky (quiet Bucky who liked honey on his pancakes, patient Bucky who made her tea and tucked her in, uncertain Bucky who looked at her with those haunted eyes) is enough to give her strength to endure—the only sounds they got from her at that point were sobs and screams.

Another blow to her broken arm causes her vision to swim, blood is dripping into her eyes—they must have cut her brow—she'll pass out again soon (good, her vocal chords could use a break) but then the room is thrown into chaos and gun shots echo along the walls. There is not enough physical strength left in her to flinch at the noise.

Leather, gunpowder and the clean scent of soap engulf her and she's gathered up against a solid chest—the bodies around them all have neat little holes in their foreheads but she barely registers that—he's being careful not to jostle her arm but she can't help but whimper when he squeezed her tight against him. Through the haze of pain she manages to lock eyes with him for a brief moment.

“I didn't tell them Bucky, kept you _safe_.” Her fingers pat his cheek and a delirious smile stretches her lips before she is out cold.

* * *

 

The red afghan is tucked around her shoulders again, her cast itches but at least the bruises on her face are healing nicely—her brow will have a scar running through it now but it made her look at little badass so it wasn't a total loss—Bucky, her silent sentinel since they'd brought her back a weeks ago, took a cup of hot chocolate from her hand and set it on the floor in front of the couch near her head (she's sprawled out watching her second day of House Hunters) and settled in next to it.

Careful fingers tangle themselves in his hair, softer then she had thought it would be, and blunt finger nails scratch at his scalp (this wasn't the first time she'd done this, the first time she had been so high off the good shit that she'd spent a half hour petting people's hair like they were dogs with her good hand. Even Natasha had endured it with little fuss) he melts against the couch and lets his head fall back.

Touch starved.

That's what he was, everyone (herself included) had build a bubble around Barnes not to make him uncomfortable or trigger anything dangerous in him but they'd also denied him the casual touches that come from friendship. So now that she knows it's not unwelcome she allows her tactile nature to take over. Fighting against sleep,she brings her head closer to his until her forehead is touching his cheek and her nose is buried in his hair (shampoo and the scent of their dinner's spices cling to him).

“Hey, Barnes?”

“Mhmmm.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

“Good.”

Closing her eyes she curls further into herself and plays with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

“Bucky?”

“Mm.”

“My friends call me Darcy.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for the fantastic response to this little labor of love I have. Seeing your comments and Kudos always makes my day.


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